


henkaku

by 2face



Series: McHanzo Week 2016 [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, McHanzo Week 2016, more of Jesse being the most Patient Man on Earth, ramen-induced panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8911951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2face/pseuds/2face
Summary: day 2: domesticityHanzo prepares a meal for Jesse and tries his best to adapt to this new thing called happiness.





	

Genji knew his brother very well. And despite their many years apart, he found that Hanzo had changed very little. The elder of the two brothers had always been a man of constants, tradition. He resisted change like a stone who despised the flowing river of time around him, but even the stone will slowly erode, and the one of the first changes Genji found in his brother surprised him.

Hanzo had learned to cook.

They had been spoiled in that regard during their life at the Shimada castle, where their meals were prepared by the staff each day. When Genji had been rebuilt, what he ate had to be carefully monitored, to the degree he rarely felt normal food was worth the effort. Hanzo, during his years on the road without Shimada support, had needed to fend for himself.

His skills were relatively limited; simple, practical dishes with a priority on nutritional value. It was logical that Hanzo would teach himself such things, but the scene before Genji now still struck him as very odd. His brother was in the watchpoint galley, going out of his way to cook a meal for himself and McCree. The _anija_ he had once known had probably never set foot in the castle kitchen.

McCree returned from a month long mission in Egypt today, and was due in any minute now. Hanzo wanted to eat together when he arrived.

“A romantic dinner,” Genji teased. “I am happy for you, brother.”

“If it is to be romantic, why are you still here? You will spoil the mood,” Hanzo shot back, placing strips of pork into a sizzling pan.

“McCree’s not here yet. I am here for moral support.”

“I do not need it.”

“Lies. I can tell when you’re nervous, _anija_.”

Hanzo scowled but put forth no further argument. The rice maker pinged.

“Damn, smells mighty fine in here. Who’s the master chef?”

The brothers turned to see the man of the hour in the kitchen doorway. He had on his finest flannel, his least ratty blue jeans, and the boots (spurless) Angela had gotten him for his birthday.

“Jesse.” Hanzo’s expression softened instantly upon seeing him. That was new too, Genji thought. It was a look he had never seen his brother give anyone before.

Jesse grinned wide, eyes warm enough to melt ice. “Howdy, darlin’.” Then, as if he was only now seeing him, “Evenin’, Genji. You joinin’ us for supper?”

Genji glanced between them, smirking behind his faceplate. He shook his head. “No, I was just leaving. Welcome back, McCree.”

Genji gave Hanzo a light jab in the side with his elbow and received one final roll of the eyes in return before he departed, humming to himself down the hallway.

-

“You need any help, darlin’?”

“No. I am almost finished. Sit.”

McCree shrugged and did as he was told. He left the kitchen and took a spot at the closest table in the meal hall. It was past normal dinner hours, and he had a sneaking suspicion the whole base knew about their little dinner date thanks to Genji, so they had the place to themselves.

Soon enough, Hanzo emerged from the kitchen, a tray in his hands. Upon it were two plates of grilled meat and two bowls of white rice.

“It is _shogayaki_. You will like it.”

He did. Jesse ate like a dying man, but still managed to talk between swallows, reporting all about the job he had been on. Hanzo briefly told him about his own, much shorter mission in London, but he had found the weeks mostly dull. He was content to let the cowboy fill the air with chatter, but there was always one thing he made sure to ask.

“Were there any injuries?”

Jesse wiped a bit of ginger sauce off the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licked it clean. “Jack got in too close with an enemy agent on some stairs. Took a tumble ‘n’ hit his head. Minor concussion. Angie fixed ‘im up. He’ll be fine. Old man’s still tough as nails.”

“And you?”

Jesse didn’t like talking about his own screw-ups in the field, but hiding shit in Blackwatch was a _bad_ idea, so he’d eventually learned a little honesty. Hanzo was as keen-eyed and hard to fool as Gabe had been. Any efforts to downplay his wounds were fruitless under Hanzo’s withering frown.

“Nothin’ more than the usual scrapes and bruises, darlin’. Promise.”

“I will have to check for myself,” Hanzo said innocuously as he took a bite, eyes cast downwards at his plate. “Thoroughly.”

The implication was not lost on Jesse.

When the two had finished eating, they gathered their dishes and returned to the kitchen to clean up.

“I gotta say,” McCree mused as he wiped a plate dry, “This feels mighty comfortable.”

“Hm?”

“You, me, eatin’ together, washin’ dishes together. Really feels like comin’ home.” He put aside his plate and took the one Hanzo handed him. “Ain’t felt like that in a long time.”

Hanzo contemplated for a moment as he squeezed his sponge to get it sudsy. “We should do this more often, then,” he decided. He _had_ been nervous, as Genji had said, he reluctantly admitted to himself. Dating, _romance_ , these things were foreign to him. But this was… good. He wanted it, if he could have it.

“I’d like that, Han. I’d like that a lot.”

The corners of Hanzo’s mouth turned up slightly. “What would you like to eat, next time?”

“Hmm.” Jesse pondered the question as he put a bowl away. “Oh! How about ramen?”

Hanzo gave an amused huff. “Ramen? Surely you could make that yourself.”

“Nowhere near as well as you, I’m sure, honeybee. Y'know, I practically lived off that cup stuff back in my Deadlock days. The first time I had the real thing in Japan I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

Hanzo blinked. “In Japan?”

“Yeah, first time was in Tokyo, on Blackwatch business. Gabe’s treat. I’ve had it in Hanamura too, if you can believe it! That place right by yer old castle.”

Hanzo’s stomach sank. Suddenly he was keenly aware of the smell of soap, the warmth and slickness of the water on his hands. He knew the place Jesse spoke of. His brother’s favorite.

“Hanzo?”

Hanzo’s vision swam. For a moment he thought his hands were covered in blood.

“Hanzo!”

There was a crash, something shattering on the floor. It sounded very far away to Hanzo. He wanted to, _needed_ to scrub his hands clean. His heart was pounding in his chest. It felt constricted, painful, terrifying.

Then McCree was pulling him away from the sink, into his arms. Hanzo struggled on instinct. “Don’t,” he protested, pushing against Jesse’s chest. “Don’t. This is wrong.”

“Darlin’, shhh,” Jesse cooed, hold unrelenting, “What's wrong? What happened?”

“I do not belong here. I do not deserve this.”

“Hey there, hey, I need you here, darlin’. I need you right here.”

Hanzo slowly ceased struggling, breath ragged, body shaking.

“Should I get Genji?”

“No!” Hanzo balled up fistfulls of Jesse’s shirt. Genji was dead. Hanzo had killed him. The Genji he had spoken to an hour ago was a different man. He didn’t eat ramen anymore, or play games at the arcade, or feed the sparrows in the garden. He’d _changed_. “No. No.”

“Alright, darlin’, okay. Easy. Easy.” Jesse stroked Hanzo’s hair and held him close. Hanzo tried desperately to calm his breathing. It wasn’t usually this bad. He hated this, hated himself for letting something so asinine provoke it.

It took several minutes for him to gather himself enough to say weakly, “The glass.”

Jesse looked confused, as if he had forgotten about it completely. It took him a second to remember that Hanzo had knocked one to the floor. “I got it, darlin’, don’t worry.”

He released Hanzo gently, leaving him propped up with his back against the counter. He collected the broken glass shards while Hanzo stewed in silent self-loathing. When the pieces were properly disposed off, Jesse took his lover’s hand. “Let’s go to bed, sweet thing.”

Hanzo said nothing, didn’t look McCree in the eye. He let himself be led down the watchpoint halls back to McCree’s quarters, which they now shared more often than not. When they arrived, Jesse hung his hat and sat down on the bed.

Hanzo hovered in the doorway, considering fleeing to his own room. But Jesse beckoned him in, and Hanzo could not deny him.

He stepped into the room, the door sliding shut behind him. When he was in arm’s reach, Jesse pulled him in so Hanzo stood between his knees. He wrapped his arms around him and rubbed circles into his back. Hanzo buried his face in his shoulder and breathed in his scent. The familiar burnt spice of cigarillos was still there, but there was something else overtop it, a little more flowery than usual.

“You smell nice.”

Jesse smiled. “Yeah, I washed up before dinner just like ya asked.”

Hanzo’s expression soured.

“I'm sorry. I expected this all to go… differently. I am pathetic.” He attempted to detach himself from McCree. “I should leave.”

“Aw darling, don’t.” McCree held firm. “You fed me, listened to me ramble, and I got to see yer gorgeous face and hear yer beautiful voice. Yer dead wrong if you think that ain't enough for me.”

Hanzo pushed back on Jesse’s shoulders so he could look him in the eye, simultaneously resolute and forlorn.

“I want to give you everything, Jesse McCree.”

Jesse let out a low whistle and raised Hanzo’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “And I'll take anything yer givin’, when you're good ‘n’ ready.” He looked up, deep into Hanzo’s eyes, desperate. “Fer now, just stay.”

Hanzo deflated. He suddenly felt very tired. Jesse studied him and tucked a loose lock of dark hair back behind Hanzo’s ear. “You ready for bed, sweetheart?”

Hanzo nodded wordlessly. Jesse helped him out of his clothes and gave him a spare shirt for sleeping. Hanzo couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle upon seeing it. How many t-shirts with the phrase ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’ on them could one man own?

Hanzo’s laugh made Jesse brighten. He had already removed his prosthetic and slid under the covers, lifting them up for Hanzo to join him. Hanzo did, and Jesse switched off the light.

Hanzo stayed a bit farther away on the bed than Jesse liked, and the cowboy made this clear by pulling him in, arm around Hanzo’s waist.

“How ‘bout I cook next time?”

Hanzo arched an eyebrow. “You?” he said simply. Jesse laughed.

“Have a _little_ faith, sweetpea. I’ve got a couple tricks up my sleeve. Shootin’ ain’t the only thing Gabe and Ana taught me.”

Jesse went on, talking about his days in the old Overwatch, how skinny he’d been when they first took him in (“A hundred pounds soakin’ wet, ‘n’ I was a tall kid.”), how his superiors went out of their way to make sure he was eating properly, how they taught him to make _kushari_ and _pozole_. How Angela showed him _rösti_ , a favorite her mother had often made her, and how Reinhardt piled his plate high with currywurst and sauerkraut.

Eventually Jesse’s eyes fluttered shut, and long pauses started forming in his sentences. Hanzo watched as his breathing slowed. He knew Jesse must be exhausted, after a long mission away and spending all day traveling.

“Jesse,” Hanzo murmured, catching him before he completely drifted off.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For being patient with me.”

Jesse opened his eyes just a crack, sleepy smile breaking across his features. “It’s my pleasure, darlin’.”

-

Hanzo awoke the next morning with a headache, but that was hardly unusual. What _was_ unusual was how rested he felt, and how _bright_ it was outside.

He shot upright.

“Hnuah?” Jesse grumbled, awoken by the sudden movement. He and Hanzo had been a tangle of limbs until a second ago. “Where’s th’ fire?”

“What time is it?” Hanzo demanded.

“Huh? Uh…” Jesse groped around on the nightstand for his phone, rubbing his eye with the end of his left arm as he checked it. “9:14,” he answered groggily.

“So late,” Hanzo muttered to himself, slightly panicked, “Careless.” He moved to pull the covers off himself and get out of bed, but was stopped by Jesse leaning across the mattress and wrapping his good arm around his waist.

“What’s the hurry, darlin’? We both got th’ day off.”

Hanzo didn’t fight him, but his brow was a tight knot. “I… I have never slept this late in my life.”

Jesse gawked at him. His hair was a frazzled brown halo, his beard even more disheveled than usual, and he must have peeled off his shirt sometime during the night, leaving him in only his boxers. Hanzo knew he often got overheated after being under the covers for a while. “Yer kiddin’, right? You’ve never slept past nine?”

“I have awoken at dawn since I was a child,” Hanzo told him as he was slowly pulled back under the covers. “It was - _is_ \- a matter of discipline.”

McCree scoffed and tugged the comforter back over both their shoulders. “Well, I think you could use a day with a little less discipline.” Hanzo shook his head, but internally he had already given in. Perhaps just this once.

“No. It is simple math. Your own discipline is so harshly in the negative, it is imperative mine remains high in order to maintain equilibrium between us and the rest of the team.”

“Babe, I’ll be honest with you, I have not been awake long enough to make heads or tails of what you just said, but it _sounded_ somethin’ like an insult.”

“Fear not, gunslinger. It was a jest.”

Jesse chuckled, a comforting rumble. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, his gaze was soft.

“A man could get used to this, y’know. Wakin’ up next to someone he loves in the morning.”

Hanzo shifted nearer, already hungry for Jesse’s warmth. Jesse hugged him close. Maybe one day, Hanzo thought. Maybe one day, he could get used to this.

“Jesse.”

“Yeah, honeybee?”

“Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading. i hope you eat well this holiday season.  
> find me on tumblr @ antivan-brandy.tumblr.com


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